Night-time Journeys
by jade silvertounge
Summary: After Prince Caspain, the Pevensies are feeling lost. One night, an unexpected meeting changes all, and the siblings find a meaning that they had never known. Short one-chaptered fic.


**Author's Note: **I did not write this story- it wrote itself. I hope you get the meaning behind it, and the parallels. :) Thank you for reading!

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"Susan? What's wrong?"  
Susan looked up, blinking, startled from her thoughts. She had been staring unusually quiet out the large window, which in turn caused Peter to look up from his chess game with Edmund and become concerned.

"Nothing's the matter," Susan said dismissively, flipping her hair over her shoulder in order to cover her face. Peter wisely turned away from her, knowing that she would answer when ready, and was confronted by Edmund's scowling face. He was biting his lip furiously, muttering quietly, "I used to remember how to do this, I used to be the best at strategy.."

Peter frowned. He knew what was happening—they were forgetting. And they were homesick. That brief, unexpected time in the land they still called home had merely served to bring back memories recently forgotten—and the process of forgetting them again was nearly unbearable.

Peter, at least, had acquired some measure of peace. He could still remember Narnia, and he would always be defined by his time there, but he could be just as magnificent _here._ England could become his new Narnia, and he was sure that some form of Aslan would still always be there to help him. But Susan still brooded, wishing for either one world or the other, not realizing what a gift her experience in both was. Edmund and Lucy were still young, and could not help but yearn for the skills they had left behind. They would always be adults in children's bodies, but as they grew, so did their frustration. They had to re-learn, re-do, and generally deal with adults treating them as nothing more than 'curious children'. Even their parents slipped into that familiar role often, forgetting that all of their children had seen more than they ever would. Even Lucy pouted more now than she ever had.

"Alright," Peter announced, pushing away the chess game and standing up. "We are going to go for a short stroll."

Edmund and Lucy were instantly on their feet, but Susan stayed sitting. "Peter, it is already dark outside, and Mum and Dad aren't even home," she pointed out sensibly.

Peter sighed, "I know, but I'm sure that they would agree we could all use a bit of fresh air. We won't wander far," he assured her.

"Please?" Lucy begged. Susan still couldn't resist her little sister when she begged like that. "Fine," she said grudgingly. "I'll get my jumper."

Lucy grinned, bouncing like an overly excited four year old. "Oh stop that," Susan said crossly as she pulled on her jumper. "You are not a child anymore."

Edmund raised his eyebrows. "She never was, Susan. And she was like this even when she 'was far too old for such silly nonsense', as you put it. You know this is simply who Lucy is."

"And who I will always be," Lucy interjected, sounding far older than her bouncing made her out to be.

Susan stopped, taken aback for a moment, before following her siblings out the door with a slight frown on her face. The four slipped out the door and into the quiet night without another word.

The darkness was cool, but not overly chilly. Small lampposts lit the street, and the moon shone brightly between wisps of cloud. In short, it was a perfect night for a stroll. They walked through the deserted streets in silence, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came from fresh air and open skies. There were very few people out at the time of night, though it was still early.

Lucy, of course, skipped ahead of the others, darting in and out of the pools of light cast by the streetlamps. Edmund smiled at Peter as they watched their sister dance ahead, chasing the light. Some things would never change.

Susan however had changed a great deal. Instead of smiling at the spectacle her sister made, she was frowning her disapproval. "Lucy, get back here now!" she said crossly. "You could be seen by other people acting this way, and can you imagine what mother and father would say?"

"Oh, come on Susan," Edmund said just as crossly.

"Both of you, stop," said Peter in a tired sort of voice. "I suggested a stroll so we wouldn't argue again. Usually being outside calms us all down."

Edmund sighed. "Sorry Pete. I'm just a bit more frustrated than usual."

Peter nodded. "About that—" Suddenly, Peter's deep voice was cut off by Lucy's light trill.

"Oh dear! I apologize sir, I didn't see you there!"

A gruff voice mumbled something in response. "Lucy?" Edmund called, squinting into the shadows between the streetlamps. They had wandered into a part of town that was not as well lit, and suddenly a flash of worry spiked through Edmund and Peter. They could not see their sister.

"I'm over here, Ed," Lucy called, reassuring her brothers. "I simply tripped over this man here, that is all. It is rather dark you know."

The three siblings hurried towards Lucy's voice and found her crouched beside the huddled form of a man. "Are you well?" Lucy was inquiring gently. The man did not answer, but instead shivered violently.

He seemed barely clothed, explaining why he shivered. Rags and hair covered most of his body, and when Edmund squinted, he could see dark spots on his back that he knew instantly were blood.

He was a beggar, clearly, who had most likely been sleeping in the small alley when Lucy danced over him. Peter was instantly by the man's side, taking off his own coat and wrapping it gently around the man. But Edmund stayed back, scanning the man's face, struck for a moment by the familiarity of it. The man was blond, bearded, wild. Edmund had never seen this man in his life, but the look in his warm eyes somehow struck a chord with Edmund. This man was a kindred spirit.

Peter felt it too as he wrapped his coat around the man's muscular shoulders. The beggar was watching him with wary eyes framed by laugh lines. He reminded Peter of one of his soldiers- a man who had integrity, who would fight for what was right, a man who could bare pain and humiliation if necessary.

"Are you well?" Peter asked, repeating Lucy's question.

The man gave a short rumble of a laugh. "As well as can be, considering the circumstances. No need to worry yourself over an old warrior like me, lad."

Edmund's mind registered the use of the word "warrior" before any other irregularity. He had rarely heard the term used in England; most men identified themselves as soldiers, only doing their duty. But Edmund and Peter had been warriors in Narnia, fighting for what was good, fighting for a cause and not just a country.

Susan's voice, gentler than it had been in quite some time, interrupted Edmund's musings. "What are you doing here at this time of night?" she gently asked the battered beggar.

"I was sleeping until this young lady danced into me," he said, just as gently.

"I apologize," Susan said sincerely. "However, we must be on our way."

Peter glanced up at his sister. "I think not," he said, authority in his voice. "This man is obviously injured, and we must do what we can to help him. We cannot turn our backs on him simply because he is a beggar."

The man looked up at Peter with respect in his eyes. "That is very noble of you, lad, but I am afraid there is not much you can do to help."

"Of course we can," Peter said confidently. "Su, will you look at his back? He seems to be injured there."

Susan, usually so eager to help others, recoiled. "Of course not!" she snapped back. "I will not touch… him."

Her siblings looked at her in disbelief and Susan felt slightly ashamed. But didn't they see? This man was wild and dangerous. He could hurt them if he wished, though something told her he did not wish to. But he was also dirty and bleeding, and Susan could not sully herself by going down to his level. She was, after all, a proper young English woman.

Defiantly, she stepped back, ignoring the betrayed looks her siblings were giving her.

Lucy was the one who broke free of her shock first. Immediately she turned to the man and gently lifted the thin rags that covered his body. Red lines criss-crossed his entire back, bringing to Lucy's mind the whips that the Calormenes often used on their slaves.

"How did that happen?" Edmund asked curiously as Lucy sucked in a breath. Normally Susan would have reprimanded her brother for being rude, but she held silent, crossly remembering the earlier looks her siblings had given her.

"I suffered through these wounds so that one I loved would not have too."

These words effected Edmund and Peter deeply. Edmund immediately remembered the countless scars he bore for that same exact reason, suffering through torture and imprisonment so Lucy or Susan or even Peter could be safe at Cair Paravel. Peter as well recalled the pain of his wounds, but also the satisfaction and relief in knowing that those he loved were safe.

There was a glimmer in the old beggar's eyes as he watched the two young kings. "I see you understand what I go through, young ones. The suffering that happens to keep your family safe is a different sort of pain," he said, pulling Peter's coat closer to his body.

"Where is your family?" Lucy asked quietly, looking unnaturally wise and solemn for someone of her age and temperament.

"They have forsaken me."

The man's voice was husky with pain as his golden eyes glanced over the children, seeming to linger on Susan.

Susan shifted uncomfortably, causing a sheet of dark hair to cover the look of pity on her face. What did it matter to her if his family had left him? He had probably deserved it. But Peter sucked in a shocked and angry breath, and Lucy looked as though she would cry.

Edmund, however, simply glanced at the lamppost the man lay under, a long forgotten pain etched on his face. Just as quickly as the pain had come, it disappeared, replaced with a calmness that had not been seen since Narnia.

"I still hope that they will remember their father one day," the man said, glancing at Edmund.

"Why would they leave you here like this?" Peter asked, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to find the man's children and drag them back home. Lucy placed a small hand on Peter's shoulder, reassuring and calming him slightly.

"They believed that they no longer needed me—now that they are old and grown, they have no use for a father, or even a friend."

"But that is a foolish belief!" Lucy exclaimed, her countenance appalled. "Everyone needs a father!"

The golden-eyed man nodded in agreement, but Susan spoke sharply to her younger sister. "Don't be ridiculous, Lucy. Grown-ups don't need fathers—indeed, it is far more sensible to cast such a childish idea aside."

A deathly still silence answered this statement and the man's expression grew even more pained, if possible. It was a terrible look, and Susan shrank back, as though she had been slapped. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, and she took a step back.

"Come, Peter," she said quickly. "We do not know this man—we cannot help him. We should go home." She turned, her back facing them, as if to start for home.

Peter shook his head, nobleness and stubbornness intermingled in his expression. "No, I will stay," he said firmly. "I'll offer what I can."

Edmund and Lucy both nodded in agreement, standing in the small circle of lamplight with their brother.

And the man smiled, his entire face changing. In that moment of Charity, the friendship offered was taken. The three children did not realize it, though they had a small feeling that something had changed. Lucy's smile grew brighter and her eyes gleamed. Edmund stood straighter, determination and love flashing in his eyes. And Peter's face held a slight shadow of what the golden-eyed man's had held—that terrible gentleness.

And Susan ached.

When the moment had passed, the man had seemingly disappeared into the night, for there was nothing left of him but Peter's now bloodstained coat and a gentle breeze.

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"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'

Matthew 25: 40

**I'll take any reviews you have to offer :) Again, thanks for reading**


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